Go Away
by starrynight265
Summary: Cameron's day off has been interrupted and she's been enlisted to check on Dr. House. But what will she face when she finds him? HouseCameron.


Dislcaimer: Only the plot is mine. And even that has some borrowing from Fox.

Rating: T (for mostly language, some themes)

AN: Well, it's a bit random so I'm sorry about that. Just something that came to me. Hope everything isn't too out of character. It can follow "Control" or "Heavy" but not too too spoilerish. And if you don't like House and Cameron together…you don't have to read it. So…with all that said…enjoy!

Go Away

Something was ringing. Cameron groaned and buried her head in her pillow. No. It persisted. Cameron rolled over on her side and made an exasperated noise, fumbling blindly for the offending object. "No more," she mumbled sleepily.

Groping fingers finally reaching it, she clumsily opened it and cradled it against her ear. "Hello?" she murmured, firmly believing that it must be a wrong number. It was her day off. She deserved a day off.

"Dr. Cameron?"

Cameron sighed and rolled onto her back, one hand rubbing at her eyes. It wasn't a wrong number. Damn. "Hello, Dr. Cuddy."

"Allison, I'm so sorry…" the soothing voice on the other end of the line was slightly patronizing but sounded genuinely sympathetic. And grieved. Cameron frowned and sat up straight. This couldn't be about forgotten paperwork.

The voice of Dr. Cuddy was still speaking. Cameron struggled to comprehend what the female doctor was saying. "...lost the patient. It's terrible over here."

"I'll be right there," Cameron told the administrator, struggling to swing her legs over the side of the bed.

"No, Allison, did you hear me?" She hadn't. "There's nothing anyone can do here, but the funeral is this afternoon. You see, the patient's mother asked Dr. House if he'd come to the funeral. And you know Dr. House…"

Cameron did know Dr. House.

"…He's just disappeared," Cuddy continued to speak in a grieved tone. "Everyone…well, I'm worried and so is Dr. Wilson, but it's a madhouse and we just can't leave. Wilson suggested that maybe you could look for him. I know you two are…friends…"

Cameron rolled her eyes and began to mindlessly make the bed. Friends. Yeah, that was what she'd call it. She'd made an idiot out of herself then, thinking that there was something between them. She realized suddenly that there was no reason Cuddy should know about their "friend" status anyways. Cameron sighed. Gossip.

"Sure," Cameron finally consented, looking wistfully at the cans of paint waiting to be slathered onto the living room wall that day. Oh well. "Do you have an address I can start with?"

Cameron wished she had remembered to wear high heels as she stood outside Dr. House's apartment. At least then she would have felt important. Or tall. She'd been here before, but it had been night then, and she hadn't remembered the address. Now, paper clutched in hand, she gazed up at the formidable building. It was…impressive. The glass glittered in the midmorning sunshine and everything was sparkling. Nice place. She took the stairs, reaching the seventh floor only slightly out of breath.

Smoothing her coat and unwrinkled jeans, she paced the distance from the stairwell to the door, her hand rising hesitantly to knock. Steeling her nerves, she knocked twice. And waited. Silence. She raised her hand and knocked again. It was the same response. Cameron frowned. This would make her task slightly more difficult.

She tried the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a slim wallet and credit card. Carefully, she teased the plastic down until the lock clicked open. Nervous now, Cameron stuffed the wallet back in her pocket and pushed the door open, half expecting alarms to go off.

Oh, shit. She'd broken into her boss's apartment. Cameron's heart thudded with the knowledge of what she had done. Oh dear. She looked around, relieved that he was not here. Or didn't seem to be here. She bit her lip and called out his name once, just to be sure. No response. She crept towards the answering machine, seeing that there were three unread messages. Tentatively, she pressed the button, and the room was filled with the concerned sound of Cuddy's voice. She hit the next button, and the room filled with Wilson's voice. She sighed. Nothing there to help her. Cameron went to the windows and drew the curtains back, letting the buttery sunshine stream into the dark room. It was a sin to keep a room in dark on such a day, even if it was Dr. House.

She turned to leave, looking absently around. A sudden version of Beethoven's Fifth suddenly blared beside her. She yelped and ducked.

Like that would do her any good.

Cameron flinched, finding the offending object to be her cell phone again. Sighing, she flipped it open, immeasurably relieved that the voice speaking to her belonged to Chase and not Dr. House.

"You okay?" he asked worriedly.

"Yeah…" she trailed off, "I'll explain later."

"Got a clue on your mission," the Australian explained in an amused voice. "House's desk has a picture of a sports field on it, and I checked with Wilson. He used to be really into…"

"Lacrosse." Cameron chimed in, realization clicking in her mind.

Chase was talking again, asking her how she might have known, but she told him goodbye and clicked off the phone. Hurriedly, she left the room, not remembering to replace the curtains.

She fairly sprinted down the stairs and, spilling out into the sunshine bath, began to hurry down the street, hailing a taxi as she went. Telling the driver her destination, she settled back onto the cheap leather and hugged her arms to her chest, unconsciously holding her breath. He had to be here. He just had to.

She had forgotten a conversation they'd had once about past things. She'd mentioned how she used to dance, and he'd mentioned how he used to play. Funny, that something so small could be leading her to him right now. Suddenly, she was assailed by doubts. What if he didn't want her there? Cuddy had just said to find him, right? Not be his buddy-chummy best friend. And besides, he'd made it quite clear that he didn't want a friend anyways. Too clear.

She felt a stab of pain to her chest and drew a sharp breath. She was so sure that he would have made a witty remark or chide her for behaving so foolishly. And she was behaving foolishly. A doctor did not have a crush on her boss. She didn't know how many times she'd had to repeat that to herself during the past week. It hadn't helped much. He hadn't wanted her. It was as simple as that.

The car stopping surprised her. The man was looking expectantly at her for his money, and she had to fumble for it before pushing the cab door open. Closing the heavy door, she had a dire urge to dive back inside and beg him to take her back to her apartment. But she closed her eyes and squared her shoulders and turned.

It was a large field. Green. The bleachers rose, high and majestic, above a sea of flat grass and lines. She peered through the fence, desperately hoping that maybe he was there. He wasn't. She felt like crying. Not because she'd just wasted twelve dollars and thirty cents, but because she'd been so sure that he would be here. Cursing herself, Cameron turned to leave.

Suddenly, her eye caught on a sudden movement. In a moment she was again pressed against the face, peering desperately through. Yes, she'd seen it. There it was again. Blended into the bleachers was a man, idly twirling a cane. Yes. It was him.

Breath whooshed out of her, letting go of air she didn't know she had been holding. She smiled despite herself. Mission accomplished. She began to walk around the back of the field, wondering how the best way to approach him would be. She didn't think a cheery wave and "I was in the neighborhood" would cut it.

Cameron approached him, slowly, steadily, heart pounding so hard all the while that she was terrified that he would hear it. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak when—

"Go away."

That caught her off guard. She hadn't even spoken and yet he was aware of her presence. Doggedly she climbed up and perched on the bench behind him. She didn't say anything.

Sighing, he whirled around the face her, cane banging sharply on the dull wood. "Why are you here?" he snapped, cap pulled low on his eyes.

She raised her chin defiantly. "Cuddy called me."

"Oh great, now I need a babysitter." House whirled around again, hunching over his bent knees. He seemed to be intently studying invisible players in action.

"I heard about what happened," she tried again, slowly, tentatively.

"The whole damn city's heard."

"Will there be a lawsuit?"

"No," he snapped, offended. "I didn't do anything wrong. He committed suicide, Cameron. It wasn't something I could have prevented."

She bit her lip. "Okay." She drew a deep breath and tried a different tactic. "Do you always come here when you're sad?"

"Goddamnit, Cameron…" House growled and whirled back to face her. He took a firm hold on her chin and forced her to look at him. "Tell me. Why are you here?"

"Everyone's worried…"

"Are you?"

"Am I a part of everyone?" she shot back, feeling a wave of déjà vu from their last conversation involving everyone and one person in the same.

"That's unfair."

"No, I really don't think it is."

His gaze made her want to melt into a puddle of mud. Strong, strong, she cautioned herself. "It's perfectly fair," she added petulantly, wanting to turn into mud for acting like a spoiled child.

Instead of tearing apart her argument as she had thought he would, he turned back around. Her shoulders drooped in defeat. But his next words caught her off guard.

"You don't know what it's like."

"What what's like?"

"See what I mean?"

"No…shit." She sighed frustrated and threw caution to the wind, moving down the two steps to sit on the weathered plank slightly below him so she could see his face. She could have sworn he almost smiled. She tried again. "Do you mean losing a patient?"

"Being somewhere you can't get out of."

Her eyebrows shot up. "Of course I know."

"Physically?" he questioned, tilting his head so he could regard her solemnly with his steady eyes.

She resisted the urge to squirm. "Third grade?" she tried valiantly, refusing to give up. "Broke my leg."

"Pity."

Throbbing, irrational frustration blew through her. "Look, I'm trying here."

"Great. You tried. Now go scurry back to Cuddy so you can get brownie points for doing your Girl Scout duty." He tugged the brim of his cap down further on his forehead, shielding himself from her deadly gaze.

Undeterred, tried another tactic, reaching forward and plucking the cap from his head. She plunked it on her own and sat up on her knees so she was his height. She was in dangerous waters, but the rational side was not piping up to make her stop. Yet. "I don't think I will."

"Damnit Cameron. I don't like you. I've told you that. I've been rude, nice, angry, bitter, and ignorant. What the hell do I have to do to get you to stop trying?"

She leaned forward and narrowed her eyes. "Fire me."

"Is that what you want?"

"No!" Her forehead scrunched in distress but she didn't give an inch.

He leaned in closer, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. "You're fired."

Her mouth fell open. She snapped it shut, with effort, he noticed, and briefly closed her eyes. She succeeded in a feeble nod, but she didn't pull back .Good, he observed.

"Okay," she managed to say. Her mind was numb. Like a New Jersey winter snowstorm had taken over her brain. She knew she should be cursing or campaigning or pleading, but she couldn't think of a single thing to say. Shit.

He looked at her. Steadily. Evaluating. Calculating. She wasn't crying. That was good. But she wasn't immediately trying to persuade him not to really follow through with it either. That was…interesting. And she wasn't backing away. He didn't know the word for that. But on the other hand, he wasn't backing away either.

And then, much to his great surprise, and her also, she had wrapped her arms around his shoulders and was holding him. His mouth fell open. Without knowing why, his arms had circled her waist and his head was comfortably nestled on her shoulder. What?

He blinked. She wasn't letting go. Temporary insanity? No, more like long-term insanity. "Allison?" he started gruffly, using her first name for effect.

But she didn't really care at the moment. Yeah, he knew she cared about him. And hell, she didn't know how he felt. But if he'd really fired her then she wouldn't have to worry about that. She'd be gone and this was the last chance she'd have. "Who's going to do your mail?"

"Chase," he murmured back, not letting go yet because she wasn't. It was strange. When patients hugged him, it never felt nearly this right.

"He can barely spell," she muttered, sighing. "I'll have to give him lessons."

His hands had found their way into her hair, winding it around the tips of his fingers. Suddenly he didn't think he'd made a good choice. "I take it back."

"What?" she jerked a little in his grasp and tried to sit back. She was unnerved and taking no pains to hide it.

He felt a stab of glee. Just to see what she'd do, he kept his arms locked in place. She squirmed. "I've changed my mind," he said nonchalantly. "I think I'll keep you on anyways. Course," he cocked his head, seeming to be oblivious to her sudden struggles, "We could all be gone by next week, so it doesn't make much difference."

"You need to let me go now." The blankness on her features had been replaced with sudden sharpness. Her tone was dangerous. She jerked back suddenly, almost catching him off guard. But he held on. His leg was starting to protest. But he held on.

"Nah, all that blather about letting go and opening up? I think I'm feeling it."

"Dr. House..." she was angry and unnerved and taking no pains to show it. "Hippocratic Oath? First do no harm? You're breaking it."

He cocked his head and tilted his head back and looked into her glittering eyes. "Funny, I thought you wanted this."

"Not when you're dangling me around like your stupid yo-yo!"

He clicked his tongue. "Temper, temper."

She squirmed again, suddenly. "Let me go."

He leaned in close to her so that their noses were nearly touching. "You first." She narrowed her eyes and he could see the tension radiating from her shoulders. Slowly, she loosened her arms and dropped them to her sides. His arms fell uncomfortably in his lap, and he fidgeted.

She wanted to cry. "Do I still have my job?" she asked him in a very small voice. She couldn't look him in the eyes.

When she dared a peek at him, his blue eyes were looking at her seriously. "For now, if you want it."

A whoosh of breath escaped her. "Thank you."

"But you might not want it anymore," he told her gravely.

Her eyes widened and hands fell still in her lap. He was looking at her weirdly. And he wasn't moving away…oh…Her lips parted. "Why's that?"

He bit his lower lip and scrunched his chin, glancing sideways like he didn't want the invisible people surrounding them to hear. "Things are about to get really awkward in the office."

She tilted her head to the side and took at deep breath, playing with fire. "You mean, more so than they are now?"

He was only a breath away. He could feel the warmth of her skin and saw her pupils widen. Oh, those were symptoms. "Point taken," he murmured, eyes dropping to her lips.

There was a long, pregnant pause. A car flew by, horn honking madly and making them both flinch. He straightened up, suddenly, lifting his wrist to look at the time. "Look at the time," he exclaimed, as if he wasn't already, "Gotta go."

Her heart fell and she felt a inescapable rush of disappointment. She frowned and opened her mouth to say something wonderfully intelligent that would get her out of feeling like a completely innocent moron…

And suddenly he had lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers. She could feel them, slightly chapped and tasting of coffee and man. She leaned into him, because of the shock, she told herself. Her eyes fell closed and she kissed him back.

She tasted like chap stick and spring and woman. He didn't know what had prompted it, nor did he know what came next. Five minutes from now. Tonight. Tomorrow. He urged her lips apart and tasted her, as he'd wanted to for a long time now. She shivered once beneath him and he felt like doing so himself. The wind settled around them and sun blessed them with a hazy warmth.

She pulled away, looking at him with her sparkling, hazy eyes. His forehead scrunched and eyes narrowed. While he was thinking of something terribly witty to say to take all this openness back, she had dropped the hat on his head and begun to speak.

"Oh," her voice was deep and slow, unlike the doctor that usually was speaking constantly to be heard, "Look at the time…" Her voice held the smile that a moment later spread over her lips.

He smirked back at her, at an utter loss for words. The smirk, a moment later, spread into a quick genuine smile not unlike her own. She reached out and rubbed her thumb across his stubble cheek. He jutted out his lower lip and tried to twist away.

She suppressed a giggle and stood. "Well, it's time for Dr. Cameron to report to Scout Leader Cuddy. Feel better," she added irrelevantly. She slowly turned and began to leave, tightening her coat around her.

"Allison?" the voice floated to her, hoarse and hesitant.

She turned around and squinted at him expectantly.

"Tell her I'll be at the wake."

Cameron smiled knowingly. "Sure thing."

He raised his hand to block the sunlight. Or maybe it was to wave. "Now get the hell out of here."


End file.
